My Xianxia Harem Life

Many people wished to catch a glimpse of Riley, but he remained absent, preoccupied with matters known only to himself.

Despite his absence, a grand feast was held in his honor—an occasion that brought together cultivators from every corner of the continent.

The Stone Mountain Sect, once considered a minor force among the great sects, now stood proudly as the host of such a prestigious event.

Banners bearing the sect's emblem fluttered in the wind, and lanterns lit up the night sky like stars.

Disciples, dressed in their finest robes, moved through the crowd with pride in their steps, while the elders, many of whom had once walked humbly among giants, now held their heads high.

Though they were entertaining guests whose cultivation realms far surpassed their own—figures of near-mythical strength—even these mighty visitors showed courtesy and respect.

After all, they were stepping into the domain of the sect to which Riley Mason belonged.

None present dared forget that it was Riley who had brought them this recognition.

His name alone had elevated the Stone Mountain Sect to new heights.

From the shadows of obscurity, they had risen to bask in the light of fame, and it was all thanks to one man—a cultivator whose strength had shaken the continent.

"Did you hear? They say Elder Riley fought against a Daoist Ghosty Zealot and won."

"That's what I heard too," someone whispered over a cup of spirit wine. "But how strong was that opponent exactly?"

"I don't know for sure," another replied, lowering his voice. "But judging from what little information we have, Daoist Ghosty Zealot was no ordinary cultivator. He was likely in the 8th or 9th stage of the Void Tribulation Realm."

There was a pause as the words settled.

"Then… does that mean Elder Riley himself is at the peak of the Void Tribulation Realm?"

An elder from a faraway sect furrowed his brows. "That would make him one of the strongest beings on the continent. Perhaps even unmatched."

It was a staggering thought. Among the experts that could be seen in the continent, the strongest among them had only reached the 5th stage of the Void Tribulation Realm.

To think someone had climbed higher—perhaps even surpassed that realm entirely—was nothing short of terrifying. Yet none could deny what they had seen, or heard.

"Have any of you considered… that he might be the mysterious Daoist who's been making waves lately?"

"Daoist Scarecrow?" a voice asked, hesitant but intrigued.

"Yes. The timing fits."

Gasps and murmurs swept through the gathering. Cultivators were cautious by nature, but they were not fools.

The coincidences were too many, the alignment too perfect.

"It would explain everything," someone muttered.

"The mysterious techniques, the overwhelming presence, the ability to fight enemies several realms above his own…"

"The name 'Daoist Scarecrow' might sound ridiculous, but the man himself is anything but."

Around the bonfires, as musicians played ancient melodies and dishes from a dozen regions were served, the conversation never strayed far from Riley. In the absence of the man himself, his legend only grew.

Some spoke of his past, trying to piece together the mystery. Others speculated on his future—would he rise even further, perhaps ascend beyond the mortal realm?

No one knew. But what was certain was this: the name Riley Mason had become one that would be remembered for generations to come.

And somewhere, perhaps not far from the feast, Riley himself moved unseen through the world—his gaze fixed not on glory, but on something far greater.

At this time, Riley was, of course, speaking with his wife, Veronica.

The room they sat in was quiet, dimly lit by a spirit lamp that flickered gently in the corner.

Outside, the world moved on—disciples gathered, cultivators conversed, and the feast held in Riley's name continued in full swing.

But in here, none of that mattered. In this private space, there were no titles, no legends, no masks. Just a man and his wife.

Veronica sat with her back straight, yet her shoulders trembled slightly.

She had always carried herself with elegance, the kind of grace born from nobility and tempered by pain.

But now, in the presence of her husband, she allowed that mask to crack.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I didn't know they would find me this quickly. I never meant to bring trouble into our home."

Her hands were clenched in her lap, knuckles pale, as though she were bracing herself for judgment.

She wasn't a woman who feared battle, but this—this was different. This was vulnerability.

Riley leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes calm and steady as he watched her.

"It's no problem," he said, his voice reassuring, deep, and warm.

"Your burden is mine to carry too. You don't have to face this alone. I'm here. I'm listening."

Those simple words made Veronica's lips tremble. She had lived for so long on edge, trusting no one, hiding in the shadows of her past.

But Riley—he was different. He didn't flinch at the weight of her secrets. He embraced them.

She took a slow breath, then finally began.

"It started… a long time ago. Back when I was still married to him."

Her voice gained a rhythm, steady and melancholic. She spoke of her first husband—a man who she loved with all her heart.

Her husband had a pure heart—too pure for the world they lived in. He believed in honor, in loyalty, in the righteousness of the cultivation path. But in the end, it was that very innocence that doomed him.

He was betrayed by a fellow cultivator, someone he trusted, someone who smiled as he plotted behind his back. A man driven not by principle, but by ambition, greed, and a thirst for power.

That betrayal shattered everything. And when the trap was finally sprung, it should've claimed them both. But it didn't. Because Veronica turned it around with the last combined effort of her husband and hers.

"I killed him in the end," she said, her voice hollow. "I had my vengeance… but I didn't know the truth then. I didn't know who he really was."

She looked away, pain flickering across her face.

"He was the son of an immortal lineage. A direct heir. I didn't just kill a traitor—I killed a scion of a family that considers itself above the heavens."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.

"I fled," she continued. "Used an ancient treasure my mother left me—a flying boat that could cross the Abyssal Ocean. I sailed across the edge of the known world, far beyond where their reach should've ended. I changed my name, concealed my cultivation, hid among mortals for years. I thought I was safe. Until now."

She finally turned her gaze to Riley again, eyes glimmering with restrained tears. "They've found me. And now… they might come for you too."

Riley was silent for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he stood and walked over to her, his steps slow, deliberate. He knelt before her and took her hands gently in his.

"I see. It's okay now. I'll protect you, Veronica," he said softly.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered.

"No," Riley replied, gently brushing away a tear. "You deserve far more than what this world has given you. And I intend to see that it changes."

He stood slowly, his gaze now steeled with purpose. The warmth in his eyes—the warmth only she had ever truly known—remained, but beneath it burned something far older, far more dangerous: a silent, ancient fury tempered by control. A flame that had once shaped mountains and cleaved through legends.

"Let them come," he said, almost to himself, his voice low but resolute. "Let the immortal lineage send their finest assassins, their most revered elders, their so-called untouchable heirs. I'll show them why I stand at the peak. I'll show them what happens when they dare threaten what is mine."

In the quiet room, beneath the soft flicker of the spirit lamp, Veronica smiled through her tears. It was a fragile smile, but it was real—born from the certainty that no matter how great the storm that approached, she would not face it alone. With Riley at her side, even the heavens themselves felt just a little less distant.

But then his expression shifted. The storm behind his eyes did not fade, but it cooled into something more precise—colder, sharper, and far more terrifying. A calm smile formed on his lips, serene but unreadable, like the surface of a lake hiding a dragon beneath.

"But I have a better idea," he said, his tone thoughtful, even light. "Why wait for them to come?"

He turned his gaze to her, and though his voice remained soft, there was no mistaking the steel beneath. "I think it's time we paid a visit to your homeland, my dear wife."

Veronica blinked, stunned. "You… want to go there?"

He chuckled, just once—a quiet, confident sound that held no fear. "To be honest, I'm kind of excited to see it. I want to see it all with my own eyes. And if we happen to kill a few enemies along the way… so be it."

He was already weaving a plan in his mind—a strategy that would not only shield Veronica from the wrath of the immortal clan, but expose their arrogance, shake their foundations, and make them remember the name Riley Mason.

It would not be a peaceful journey.

It would not be a simple reunion.

It would be a reckoning.